NUMEN. 


RESPONSE  OF  JOS.  B.  CUMMING 


TO  THE  TOAST, 

THE  MAYFLOWER 

AT  THE 

79th  ANNUAL  DINNER 


OP  THE 


N E W ENGLAND  SOCIETY, 

Of  O Ti f i i'  1 tr o r i S . O ■ , 


DECEMBER  22,  1898. 


Chronicle  Job  Printing  Co. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/numenresponseofjOOcumm 


NUMBN. 


RESPONSE  OF  JOS.  B.  CUMMING 

TO  THE  TOAST, 

THE  MAYFLOWER 

AT  THE 


79th  ANNUAL  DINNER 


OF  THE 

NEW  ENGLAND  SOCIETY, 


Of*  C It  a rlt?sst<  > n S.  O • , 


DECEMBER  22,  1898. 


Chronicle  Job  Printing  Co. 


The  third  regular  toast  was  “The  Mayflower,”  to  which  the 
Hon.  Joseph  B.  Cumming  responded  as  follows: 

Not  long  ago  I saw  a little  engraving  which  purported  to  be  a 
picture  of  the  ark  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  the  “Mayflower.”  If 
anyone  cares  to  see  it  he  will  find  it  illustrating  the  very  brief 
sketch  of  John  Alden  in  Appleton’s  Encyclopaedia  of  Biography. 
But  I would  not  advise  anyone  to  .waste  time  in  'looking  it  up, 
for  it  is  a very  insignificant  little  picture. 

I would  not  trust  myself  here  in  a seaport  city  to  handle  nauti- 
cal terms,  even  if  it  were  my  purpose  to  try  to  give  a description 
of  the  Mayflower.  I shall  only  say  that  to  my  landsman’s  eye  she 
presents  in  this  little  sketch  a very  forlorn  spectacle.  It  is  true  that 
in  this  picture  her  masts  and  yards  are  bare.  The  eye  rests  on 
nothing  but  wood  and  ‘hemp.  Not  a single  sail  woos  a favoring 
breeze.  No  voyagers  tread  her  deck.  A very  different  sight  might 
she  have  been  on  some  autumn  day  of'  that  long  voyage  when, 
with  crowding  canvas,  she  rose  and  dipped  on  a sunlit  sea.  But  in 
the  picture  I have  referred  to  a very  dreary  and  depressing  little 
craft  she  seems  to  be.  Plow  small,  too,  was  she  in  fact.  One  hund- 
red and  eighty  tons  her  burthen.  And  how  slow  she  must  have 
been  with  her  broad  hull  and  rounded  prow.  But  perhaps  this 
dispiriting  picture  bears  not  the  slightest  resemblance  to  that  lit- 
tle barque  of  immortal  memory.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  that 
this  picture  was  only  an  artist’s  fancy,  a sort  of  symbol,  his  con- 
ception, expressing  itself  in  the  forms  of  art,  instead  of  in  words, 
of  the  dreary  outlook  of  that  momentous  cruise,  as  it  must  have 
appeared  at  the  time  to  a scornful  world  and  even  to  the  subli- 
mated voyagers  themselves — unless  these  latter,  among  the  other 
spiritual  endowments  which  exalted  them  above  all  the  ills  of 
this  world,  possessed  the  gift  of  prophetic  vision. 

Ah,  indeed,  with  its  aid,  looking  down  the  vista  of  the  future 
and  beholding  what  that  ship’s  company  were  to  be  in  their  rela- 
tion to  a great  nation  and-  its  marvelous  career,  they  woulji  have 
seen  that  the  name  of  that  wretched  little  craft  would  live  as  long 
as  that  of  any  of  the  famous  argosies,  which,  in  history  or  in  myth, 


4 

• 

have  sailed  the  waters  of  this  planet.  They  would  'have  known 
that  neither  the  Argo  of  Jason,  with  its  seekers  for  the  golden 
fleece,  nor  the  ships  of  Hiram  bringing  rich  material  for  Solo- 
mon’s temple,  nor  the  high  turre'ted  galleon  San  Marten  of  the  in- 
vincible Armada,  nor  the  ship  with  Castor  and  Pollux  for  its 
sign  a*nd  the  Apostle  Paul  for  its  passenger,  nor  the  silken-sailed 
and  silver-oared  galley  of  Cleopatra,  nor  even  the  brave  little 
Santa  Maria  of  the  great  discoverer,  ■would  have  a surer  place  in 
the  world’s  memory  than  the  Pilgrim’s  Mayflower.  But  if  this 
comforting  gift  was  withheld,  or  if  sometimes  it  suffered  eclipse 
when  the  wintry  storms  of  the  Atlantic  buffeted  their  little  craft, 
there  must  have  been  occasions  when  the  resolute  hearts  of  its 
company  doubted  whether  it  had  not  been  better  that  she  had 
never  weighed  anchor  and  never  spread  sail.  And  even  when  the 
voyage  was  ended  and  the  little  vessel  rode  at  anchor  on  a rock- 
bound  and  snow-wrapped  coast,  how  desolate  she  must  have 
.'looked  in  the  offing.  And  when  those  who  had  gone  down  to  the 
sea  in  this  little  ship  realized  on  that  repellant  shore  that  she  was 
' the  only  link  between  them  and  the  fair  world  they  had  left  be-* 
hind  them,  hot  more  did  the  sea  gulls  hover  about  the  lonely 
craft  than  did  the  anxious  fears  of  the  exiled  voyagers.  And  then 
the  name  of  it!  “The  Mayflower!”  There  was  that  in  this  name, 
with  its  reminder  of  the  -sweet  English  meadows  in  the  loveliest 
of  all  the  months,  to  break  the  exile’s  heart  on  that  lone,  forbid- 
ding shore.  Not  strange,  then,  that  the  artist  makes  me  a dreary 
and  depressing  little  picture  of  the  “Mayflower.” 

But  why  do  I linger  so  long  over  that  little  ship?  For  really, 
though  it  is  inseparably  associated  with  the  memories  of  the  day 
we  celebrate,  it  is  not  the  Mayflower  of  my  theme.  That  May- 
flower of  the  Pilgrims  sailed  the  ocean  in  a high  latitude  of  the 
north  temperate  zone.  The  other  Mayflower  of  my  thoughts  burst 
into  bloom  in  distant  tropical  seas.  That  Mayflower  of  our  early 
history  withered  and  perished  two  centuries  and  more  ago.  The 
Mayflower,  with  which  my  thoughts  are  busy  at  this  moment,  is 
still  in  gorgeous  and  expanding  efflorescence.  The  wintry  ocean, 
which  Sore  upon  its  bosom  the  earlier  flower,  and  the  seas  at  the 
equator,  which  witnessed  the  bud  and  bloom  of  the  Mayflower 


5 


of  today,  are  not  more  different,  are  not  more  separated  in  kind 
than  the  two  flowers  themselves.  The  Mayflower  of  1620  has 
•wafted  its  subtle  influence  through  nearly  three  centuries.  The 
Mayflower,  which  burst  into  sudden  and  unexpected  fiamboy- 
ancy  in  this  present  year  of*  grace,  needed  but  a single  night  and 
day  to  send  its  strong  exhalations  across  ten  'thousand  miles  of 
ocean,  and  to  pervade  a whole  continent  with  its  intoxicating 
fragrance. 

On  the  thirtieth  day  of  April  in  'the  year  of  our  Lord,  1898,  the 
people  of  this  country  were  feeling  all  the  exaltation  which  takes 
possession  of  a people,  rejoicing  in  their  strength  and  conscious 
of  a high  purpose,  at  the  prospect  of  war.  Strange  as  it  may  ap- 
pear, still  it  seems  to  me  to  be  true  that  a nation  reaches  its  great- 
est spiritual  heights  as  it  prepares  for  war.  This,  if  it  be  true — 
as  I think  it  is — is  true  because  the  occasion  calls  into  the  fullest 
activity  the  noblest  and  the  nearest  divine  of  all  human  attributes 
— the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  At  such  times,  in  all  the  ramifications 
of  society,  this  spirit  is  astir  in  the  many  forms  which  will  occur 
to  any  one  who  stops  to  think  of  it.  Whatever  may  be  the  mo- 
tives and  design's  of  monarch's  or  statesmen  or  demagogues  in 
launching  a people  in  a war,  however  silly  or  sordid  or  wicked 
its  instigators  may  be,  'the  masses  of  the  people  themselves  reach 
their  highest  levels,  get  farthest  away  from  the  petty,  the  mean, 
the  selfish  and  the  commercial  in  fesponding  'to-  the  trumpet  call 
of  die  hour.  In  the  hearts  and  spirits  of  the  people,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  rules  for  the  time  this  uplifting  force  of  self- 
sacrifice.  In  the  hearts  of  those  who  carry  to  the  field  their  much, 
if  they  are  to  fight  and  live,  their  all,  if  they  are  to  fight 
and  die,  and  in  the  hearts  and  spirits  of  those  ■ who 

are  senders  to  the  field  of  their  best  and  dearest — yea,  in 
the  hearts  of  all  the  people,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  this  spirit 
lives  and  moves.  Added  to  the  usual  spiritual  forces  which  exalt 
a people’s  tone  in  such  a crisis  there  was  in  this  occasion  a strong 
element  of  knight  errantry.  We  had  persuaded 

ourselves  that  we  were  going  to  war  not  for 
ourselves,  not  to  extend  our  borders,  not  to  acquire  commer- 
cial advantage.  In  a prosaic  and  self-seeking  age  we  had  become 


0 


crusaders  engaged  in  a holy  war,  not,  it  is  true,  to  retrieve  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  ft*>m  the  infidel,  but  the  oppressed  from  the  op- 
pressor. For  'this  purpose  we  were  to  go  beyond  our  doors,  but  ’ 
still  well  within  our  own  hemisphere.  Shores,  which  the  straining 
eye  could  almost  discern  from  our  oWn  shores,  and  the  narrow 
sea  between,  traversable  in  the  compass  of  the  shortest  summer 
night,  were  to  mark  the  limits  of  our  noble  emprise.  A single 
island  of  'the  Gulf,  which  washes  our  own  coasts,  not  archipela- 
goes in  the  far-off  seas  of  the  Orient,  filled  our  thoughts  and 
bounded  our  aspirations. 

The  night  of  April  30  of  this  year,  Which  now 
draws  to  a close,  when  this  American  people  had  fallen 
asleep,  or  sleeping  or  waking,  were  dreaming  only  the  compara- 
tively sober  dream  I have  mentioned,  an  American  war  fleet  rose 
and  fell  to  the  gentle  undulations  of  a tropical  sea.  On  the  first 
day  of  May  that  fleet  had  achieved  a victory,  which  reads  more 
like  a tale  from  wonderland  than  a leaf  from  the  annals  of  naval 
warfare.  But,  wonderful  as  was  the  victory  itself,  -it  -seems  com- 
monplace in  -comparison  with  the  immediate  results.  On  that 
May  day  burst  -into  bloom  the  Mayflower  of  my  story. 

Of  all  strange  flowers  this  was  the  most  wonderful.  Every  flow- 
er 'that  springs  from  the  bosom  of  earth  is  a Wonder  and  a mys- 
tery; -the  most  flaunting  orchid  of  tropical  forests  not  more  .so 
than  the  lowly  violet  that  scarce  lifts  its  head  from  the  graves  of 
loved  ones  in  -our  own  village  church  yards.  We  dwellers  in  a 
warm  climate  have  nil  a few  Times  made  our  visit  in  the  spring 
evenings  to  some  shrub  -of  the  garden,  revealing  scarce  percepti- 
ble buds,  and  have  been  greeted  at  early  mo  fin  with  a flood  of 
bloom  and  fragrance,  the  transformation  of  a single  vernal  night. 
We  have  in  every  recurring  year  noted  at  eventide  the  oncom- 
‘ ing  of  the  springtime  in  the  budding  branch,  and  have  looked 
out  at  dawn  on  the  leafy  tree.  ITow  many  a summer  morning  have 
our  senses  been  delighted  by  'something  which  lived  not  in  the 
evening  air.  It  was,  peradventure,  the  magnolia  grandiflora  on 
whose  glorious  flowers  the  witchery  of  the  intervening  night  had 
wrought  its  wonderful  work. 

Not  -only  has  opulent  nature  these  sweet  greetings  of  the  morn- 


7 


ing;  she  has  also  her  delicious  floral  surprises  for  the  night  time, 
as  when,  like  some  court  beauty,  who  spends  the  hours  of  garish 
day  on  her  couch  in  dreamy  languor  behind  silken  curtains,  re- 
serving the  brilliant  apparition  of  her  charms  for  the  hour  of  the 
ball  and  the  banquet,  our  own  night  blooming  cereus,  close  wrap- 
ped all  day  in  its  dainty  russet  mantle,  awaits  the  shades  of  night 
to  unfold  its  beauty  and  'dispense  its  fragrance. 

Not  only  da  we  know  nature’s  magic  in  this  part  of  her  king- 
dom, but  we  have  read  of  man’s  strange  counterfeit  of  her  work 
in  this  same  domain.  We  have  read,  and  with  our  own  ears  we  have 
heard  from  the  lips  of  travellers,  of  the  incomprehensible  feat  of 
the  East  Indian  juggler.  He  will  plant  you  a seed  in  the  earth  be- 
fore your  very  eyes.  In  a few  minutes  ‘the  earth’s  'crust  will  stir 
and  break.  Then  the  first  beginning  of  the  plant  rises  above  the 
ground,  leaves  burst  forth,  and  it  is  a matter  of  minutes  onlv  be- 
fore  a brilliant  flower  crowns  the  work  of  the*  magician. 

Marvelous  as  are  these  familiar  works  of  nature  and  this  clever 
juggling  of  man,  never  yet  in  any  anthology  has  there  been  gath- 
ered so  wonderful  a flower  as  my  Mayflower  of  this  year  of 
grace.  When  I thus  characterize  it  I am  not  thinking  of  the  vic- 
tory itself  in  Manila  bay  or  its  glory,  or  its  completeness  or  its 
blessed  bloodlessness.  I am  thinking  of . the  sudden 
and  marvelous  outburst  of  a new  idea,  a new 
sentiment,  a new  aspiration  of  the  American  people . 
Where  was  there  a man  in  all  this  broad  land,  from  the  chief 
magistrate  to  the  humblest  citizen,  from  the  most  thoughtful 
statesman  to  the  most  blatant  jingo,  who  On  the  day  of  April  30 
thought,  or  in  the  night  of  April  .30  dreamed,  of  colonial  posses- 
sion's in  the  Eastern  Hemisphere?  Up  to  the  going  down  of  the 
sun  on  that  epochal  day  there  was  nothing  more  foreign  to  our 
policy  and  our  tradition's,  or  further  away  from  our  thoughts. 
We  laid  us  down  and  slept  Americans  for  America;  we  awoke 
filled  with  imperial  longings.  Our  armies  'were  assembling  up  to 
that  night  only  to  leave  our  Southern  shore  to'  carry  food  and 
freedom  to  starving  and'  oppressed  Cuban's.  We  awoke  to  'bend 
our  energies  equally  for  the  gathering  of  fleets  and  armies  on  our 
western  doast  in  order  to  possess  ourselves  of  archipelagoes  a 


third  of  the  earth’s  circumference  from  our  doors,  inhabited  by 
people  who  'starved  not,  and  who  'desired  not  our  coming.  The 
whole  spirit  of  our  dream  changed  in  a single  night.  Political  iso- 
lation, the  watchword  of  the  Republic  from  its  birth,  was  drowned 
in  the  new  language  of  imperialism.  Under  'the  influence  of  this 
new  spirit  the  emancipation  of  Cuba  ceased  to  be  the  only  pur- 
pose and  aim  of  our  armaments,  and  became  a mere  incident.  And 
the  poor  reconcentrados — if  they  were  ever  w'oVth  considera- 
tion— ceased  to  get  it.  In  the  vast  expansion  of  our  vision,  and 
with  our  eyes  uplifted  to  distant  archipelagoes,  they  were  simply 
overlooked — and  perished  long  ago,  unheeded  and  forgotten. 

I have  said  that  the  germination  and  the  blooming  of  every 
flower,  even  tire  lowliest,  is  a mystery.  Who  among  us,  even  the 
wisest,  can  say  more  of  the  daisy,  or  the  lily  of  ifhe  valley,  or  any 
of  the  flowers,  that  border  our  pathway,  than  that  they  come  in 
response  to  forces  In  which  man  has  no  part?  And  in  this,  my 
gorgeous  Mayflower  is  like  unto  them.  Who  can  detect  the  hand 
of  man  in  fashioning  it?  Who  can  recall  a single  voice  which, 
prior  to  that  May  morn,  spoke  of  empire  and  the  islands  of  the 
orient?  What  statesman  or  writer  had  broadcasted  in  the  hearts 
and  mi'nds  of  the  American  people  die  seed  of  this  new  aspiration, 
which,  without  preconcert,  in  a single  day,  burst  into  bloom  in  all 
parts  of  this  broad  land?  If  there  wras  any  such  man  name  him. 
Rehearse  to  us  the  speech  he  has  made;  point  us  to  the  line  he 
has  written  antedating  the  first  day  of  our  latest  May.  Indeed,  in- 
deed, when  was  it  ever  given  to  any  man  to  sweep  with  a new- 
thought  in  a single  night  through  the  hearts  and  minds  of  a 
whole  nation,  whose  domain  stretches  from  ocean  to  ocean  and 
from  Artie  lands  to  tropical  seas? 

Let  us  not  be  behind  the  old  Romans  in  our  recog- 
nition of  forces  other  than  man’s  shaping  the  des- 

tinies of  nations.  When  the  army  of  Parthia  and 
the  army  of  Gaul,  the  legions  on  the  Danube  and  the  legions  on 
the  Tiber,  as  sometimes  happened,  without  inter-communication, 
became  actuated  and  moved  at  the  same  time  by  the  same  im- 
pulse, those  old  heathen  had  the  one  ready  and  the  one  only  ex- 
planation, the  “Numen!”  It  was  the  divinity,  which,  unlimited 


q 


in  its  operation  by  time  and  space,  had,  unseen,  unheard  and 
unfelt,  laid  its  work  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  widely  separated 
communities.  This  invisible,  inaudible,  imperceptible  power 
is  still  at  work.  If  I m-ay  liken  great  things  to 
small,  the  unseen  to  the  visible,  the  spiritual  to  the  material,  I 
would  say  that  it  works  as  does  some  skilled  electrician:  invisible 
threads  are  skillfully  -established,  connecting  with  the  source  of 
light  and  ramifying  into  all  parts  o-f  a great  city.  The  work  of 
preparation  may  be  -slow;  it  may  go  on  unobserved,  but  -once 
ready,  it  requires  but  the  strength  of  a single  finger  to  produce  in 
a moment  an  outburst  of  light  in  all  that  city’s  'borders. 

This  is  not  'the  time,  the  place  or  the  occasion  to  mention  any 
theme  in  such  fashion  as  to  provoke  discussion,  debate  or  con- 
troversy, but  I remain  within  the  limits  Which  I recognize  when 
I express  the  trust  that  no  one  will  'successfully  assail  the  evolu- 
tion of  my  Mayflower.  Ah,  me!  When  this  portentous  appari- 
tion of  empire  agitates  some  of  us  so  horribly,  we  need  some  such 
theory  as  1 have  feebly  set  forth  to  calm  our -perturbed  spirits.  In 
the  prospect  of  an  imperialism  that  embraces  the  death-dealing 
islands  of  the  'tropics,  with  their  millions  of  untamed  and  untame- 
able  inhabitants — an  imperialism  that  beckons  the  choice  of  our 
manhood  for  many  coming  years  'to  blood  and  pestilence — an 
imperialism  which,  in  the  light  of  mere  human  wisdom,  is  ap- 
parently in  the  humanitarian  aspect  so  Quixotic,  in  the  Chris- 
tianizing purpose  so  hopeless,  in  the  business  outlook  so  barren, 
in  the  fiscal  view  so  oppressive,  in  every  view  so  wild  and  fantas- 
tical— in  the  presence  of  such  an  apparition  some  of  us  can  pre- 
serve our  calmness  -only  by  dwelling  on  such  thoughts  as  I have 
endeavored  to  present.  We  are  only  saved  from  rage,  as  well  as 
despair,  by  recalling  the  remarkable  circumstances  of  the  advent 
of  this  new  aspiration,  and  by  being  able  to  note  the  absence 
therefrom  of  man’s  machinations,  and  thus  to  calm  ourselves, 
even  in  this  -dreadful  prospect  o-f  imperialism,  while  we  say  with 
humility,  and  not  without  ho-pe,  "Deus  regnat!” 


